


The Howlers

by I_Weave_Dreams



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Weave_Dreams/pseuds/I_Weave_Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Howlers, led by one brooding Derek Hale, are the best a capella group at Beacon Hills University. Competition comes in the form of freshman Stiles Stilinski who joins a rival group. Things get even more complicated for the new rivals when Stiles, as part of his full ride Hale Family Scholarship, must be Derek's assistant for the next year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> QUICK NOTE! If you see one of these * next to a song, I’d really recommend you play that song while reading. It puts you even more in the atmosphere of the story as well as just making it more fun ^_^ I’ll always say which songs to have “loaded’ before each chapter. For this one. “Roar” by Katy Perry and “Counting Stars” by One Republic. Look for the * as a reminder!

"Stiles, would you just pick a station already?" said a weary sheriff, dragging a hand down his face before letting it slap down on the steering wheel.

"Dude, dad, there's nothing on! And we just spent the last hour listening to the Talking Heads, so it's my turn to pick. If you had just let me listen to that Rihan-"

"No! No more Rihanna," Sheriff Stilinski blurted, startling in his seat as if suddenly shaken awake. His son had played the pop singer's CD the entire past week as he packed for college, the lyrics blasting through their house's thin walls. Over and over again the CD played, so much so that the sheriff had been mouthing the words to one of the songs unnoticed, until his partner caught him in the car while they'd been patrolling. He hadn't been able to live it down since.

For the past five hours, Stiles and the sheriff had been driving to Beacon Hills University. It was Stiles' first year of college, and the third time they had made the trek up here. The first was to visit the college. At the time, this university had only been on Stiles' "Maybe One Day in a Million Years" Wish List. He'd just wanted to walk around the campus and imagine what it was like to be a student there for a day. 

Mostly he'd gone coffee house hopping, loudly quoting poets the likes of Edgar Allan Poe and Maya Angelou and complaining that the music in there was "too mainstream" and that he'd save his "hard earned Trust Fund money" and take his business elsewhere. The sheriff would have strangled Stiles for his antics if he hadn't been used to them for the past 18 years.

Really though, despite horsing around and having fun mocking the pretentious air that the private university gave off, Stiles did really want to attend, and had applied for the Hale Scholarship for Outstanding Academics. The engineering program here was rated the best in the country and probably everywhere else in the universe too. 

The only reason they'd even gone was because the university was only an hour's drive away from another one that Stiles had applied to and had a much, much better chance of getting into. The second time they'd gone down was when Stiles went to the award ceremony to accept the scholarship offer. Literally hundreds of thousands of students had applied from all over the world, and only five got chosen. 

That time they'd been flown down by the Hales; first class and everything. The whole ceremony had been like walking onto a movie set or having some crazy, alcohol induced dream. People wore dresses and suits that cost more than Stiles' house, jewelry that had nearly blinded him it had so many diamonds, and ate food that was so rich Stiles felt sick later on that night, nearly puking down the front of his cashmere robe the hotel they'd been put up in provided.

As ecstatic as Stiles was about winning the scholarship and spending the weekend in a million dollar mansion and luxurious hotel suite, he'd never felt more uncomfortable or out of place in his life. When Talia Hale, the head of the Hale family, was giving her speech at the dinner table, she apologized for two of their family members not being in attendance because they were off at some competition or something, but Stiles couldn't remember their names because he'd been too busy staring at the millions of forks next to his plate, trying to figure out what they were all for. 

If the competition the other Hales were at was for Who's the Most Beautiful Person in this Room then Stiles had no doubt the Hales tie, because every single other one of the Hales was drop dead gorgeous. Even the one named Peter, who'd held Stiles' hand just a little too long for comfort when he was going down the Hale line, shaking their hands as he accepted his award. Especially him, actually.

But as lavish as the ceremony and the people were, the Hales were actually pretty demure compared to everyone else. They were clearly the wealthiest in the room, but except for a few tasteful jewels adoring the women's necklaces and the men's cufflinks, they didn't bother showing off their wealth. That'd settled Stiles' nerves somewhat, especially knowing that he'd have to be working for them during the next four years as part of his full-ride scholarship.

"Whoa! Whoa! Turn it up, dad, this is my jam!" Stiles shouted even though he was the one fiddling with the controls. 

The beginning of Katy Perry's song "Roar" started playing from the speakers. 

_*I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath_  
_Scared to rock the boat and make a mess_  
_So I sat quietly, agreed politely_  
_I guess that I forgot I had a choice_  
_I let you push me past the breaking point_  
_I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything_

They'd just reached the campus and cars were everywhere, people milling about the campus as they unloaded the boxes they had packed their lives away into, returning students already horsing around with their friends, happy to see them again, and dogs who'd been brought along for the ride barked in farewell to their humans. 

Stiles looked at it all in wonder as the castle-like dorms loomed in the distance, brilliant and gothic in their structure. Energy was already coursing through his body, sizzling like firecrackers through his nerves and sending him bouncing in his seat. The atmosphere of finally arriving at university, the possibility of starting his life anew, and the music coursed through him.

They were driving at a steady crawl as they waited in the line of cars to find a spot to park so Stiles could unload his stuff. Up head, Stiles saw a large group of students walking along the sidewalk. Stiles quickly rolled down the window and, just as the chorus hit, he belted out the lyrics.

"I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire  
'Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar  
Louder, louder than a lion  
'Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar  
Oh oh oh oh oh oh  
Oh oh oh oh oh oh  
Oh oh oh oh oh oh."

He'd only been able to see their backs at that point, but now the car was pulling past them just as they'd turned as one to look at who was singing. As he did, his eyes connected with the person leading the group, and Stiles wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more gorgeous human being in his life. 

"You’re gonna hear me roarrrrrr!" Stiles sang out, making a performance of it by pointing at the group and then holding his arms out wide like he really was King of the Jungle. 

Stiles wasn't exactly shy to begin with, but music always did something to him. Something clicked in his brain whenever it was playing and just flowed through him so that everything fell into place and there was nothing else but the music. He'd loved music since he was a kid, ever since his doctor had figured out it could control his ADD in a way not even prescription medication could. 

The guy just stared blankly, unamused at Stiles as he sang, but some of the others catcalled and 'whooped' and cheered him on. Either way, Stiles didn't care. He was too happy to care because he was pretty sure he'd never actually get to talk to that guy anyway. Guys with faces and bodies like that didn't talk to guys with faces and bodies like Stiles'. 

And by then it didn't matter because the line ahead had suddenly cleared, and the sheriff sped forward. The sudden force drove Stiles back into his seat with a laugh. This was going to be a good year.

\-----

By the time Stiles was done unpacking and saying goodbye to his father, he felt exhausted. That was the most physical labor he'd done in...well...ever. His roommate was apparently already moved in though because when they'd gotten there, one half of the room was already taken over. A Green Lantern poster was stuck to the wall over the other guy's bed, and Stiles' worry over having a serial killer for a roommate who'd want to cut off pieces of his skin in the middle of the night, or a pervert for a roommate who'd want to lick pieces of his skin in the middle of the night, eased a little. Anyone who liked Hal Jordan couldn't be terrible, right?

Stiles was glad that his roommate wasn't there when he had to say goodbye to his dad. Despite the sheriff’s promise that he wouldn't cry, they both did, the tears coming down silently as the two men hugged. What had really gotten Stiles was when his dad whispered, "Your mother would be proud."

Now that Stiles was alone, he figured he could either take a nap or explore the campus. Despite his arms feeling like jello, Stiles' curiosity won out as it always did, and he hopped off his bed, giving his armpits a quick smell check, before heading for the door.

As he was walking out, someone came walking in, box in hand, and the two collided. 

"Oh, dude, sorry, man!"

"No, my bad, my bad!"

It took a minute, but the pair finally managed to untangle themselves. 

"McCall?" Stiles huffed out as he got his breathing back in check.

The guy kneeling next to him, starting to put books back into the box, looked up at him and nodded. "Scott," he said, running a hand through a mop of black hair and blinking at him with puppy-dog brown eyes, the other hand coming up to scratch at his crooked jawline. "Stilinski?"

"Call me Stiles," said Stiles, holding a hand out. The pair shook hands, and then went back to loading the rest of Scott's stuff back into the box.

"Sorry about that," Scott apologized again, setting the box on his bed. "My mom's always said I never look where I'm going."

"It's cool," said Stiles from where he was leaning against the doorway. "All Green Lantern fans get a free pass with me."

Scott glanced up at the poster over his bed that Stiles nodded at before turning back to Stiles with a smile. "You're into comics?"

"Hell yeah!" said Stiles, puffing his chest out proudly. "'Even started my own."

"Sick! No way. You'll have to show me sometime. I know a guy who works in publishing."

It was then that Stiles really took a look at Scott. Sure, he was wearing a shirt with the image of the Death Star from Star Wars on it, but over it he had a black blazer, that while simple, looked like it was made from a material far more expensive than the cotton Stiles' own dress blazer was made out of. He also wore a nice pair of dark jeans and a pair of blue and red Nike tennis shoes that Stiles knew cost a couple hundred dollars because he'd been salivating at them last week as he stared at a picture of them online.

"My mom," said Scott, seeing Stiles staring at his clothes, and tugged self-consciously at the blazer. "After 18 years, she still tries to pick out my clothes." He slipped the blazer off and tossed it onto an empty pile of boxes like it didn't cost a few hundred dollars.

This guy definitely wasn't a scholarship student, Stiles noted, wondering where the other four Hale scholarship students were and why he wasn't shoved off to some far less nicer dorm room than this one, which had thick mahogany beams and dressers and desks, each desk having an Apple Mac computer on top, an ensuite bathroom, their owns closets, and what looked like minifridges in the corner.

Stile felt suddenly shabby in his denim jeans from Target, white shirt with an open button-up plaid shirt over it, and red Converse. 

"Wanna go walk around?" said Scott. "The Club Fair is going on for Fresher's Week."

"Sure," said Stiles, even though he had no idea what the Club Fair was, but he'd been heading out anyway and any chance to stretch his legs after that car ride was good with him. 

Stiles followed Scott, who seemed to already know his way around. The university was big, but because it was private, the campuses weren't as large, and they were able to walk from the dorms to the main campus. The whole way there, Stiles kept up a steady stream of conversation, and to his further surprise, Scott didn't mind his incessant chatter or heavy sarcasm. 

The Club Fair, as it turned out, was where all the school's clubs lined the walkway to the Main campus. Each had their own booth or table with banners hanging overhead, decorated accordingly and shouting out and trying to draw in prospective members.

Stiles' ADD was already buzzing happily, his attention being pulled every which way from the circle of people all beating on bongo drums, the delicious smells wafting from the Organization of Latin American Students, the frantic yelling from the crowd who stood around two large TV screens set up at the Gamers United club, the group of men standing in front of a large sign with Greek letters giving some speech about honor and loyalty, the whirling from a saxophone battle going on at the Jazz Club booth, and all the noises coming from the BeatBox Club who seemed to be doing a remix of Lorde's song "Royals."

Stiles didn't know what he'd been expecting from a private university, and Beacon Hills at that, but it wasn't something as awesome and open and carefree as this. By the end of it, he'd learned how to play Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" on bongo drums, knew how to say several curse words in Japanese, could do some decent shadow puppets, and had a belly full of enchiladas.

"I wonder if chinchillas and enchiladas are related. I mean, obviously they aren't _actually_ related because one's an animal and the other's a delicious cheesy food product, but, I mean, their names are too similar for them not to share _some_ kind of connection, you know what I'm saying?"

Stiles was staring quizzically at the last surviving enchilada in his paper cartoon, poking at it experimentally with a fork, when he noticed that Scott wasn't paying any attention to him. "Listen, man, I'm asking for science; the world deserves to kn-"

Stiles followed Scott's line of sight and saw that he was staring at a table full of beautiful women. "Doing some scientific research of your own, I see," Stiles said with a wink, nudging Scott in the ribs with his elbow.

A deep red blush bloomed across Scott's cheeks and neck as he looked away. 

"Who are they?" asked Stiles as he squinted at the sign over their table that had "The Acabellas" written in a rich scarlet cursive. "The Acabellas?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"They're the All Girls a capella group," said Scott, staring at them once again like he was in a trance. 

Both of Stiles' eyebrows went up. "You guys have a capella groups here." He couldn't help it, he laughed. "How in the world are there women that hot in a club like that?"

"A capella groups are a big thing here," said Scott seriously. Still, Stiles stared, waiting for him to start laughing. When he didn't, Stiles' eyebrows receded further into his hairline.

"You're not serious?" It wasn't that Stiles was making fun of them. No. Stiles was of the "love whatever you love" mindset, seeing as all of the shit he loved was the kind of stuff that got him thrown into garbage bins and a one-way ticket to sitting alone at lunch. But he expected the same things that were popular in high school to be the same things that were in college, if not more so. 

Scott nodded enthusiastically. "The Acabellas are really good. And, as much as it sucks to say it, the One Note Stands are too. They're an All Guys a capella group, but they're a bunch of dicks."

Stiles snorted. "The One Note Stands? Is that supposed to be clever?" It was clearly a play on "one night stand." With a name like that, he wasn't surprised Scott thought they were all douchebags. 

Scott laughed. "They like to think so. Jackson Whittemore is the leader. We went to the same high school. The guy thinks he's hot shit. They're over there." 

He pointed a little farther off, right down at the end of the walkway where a section of staggered bleachers were placed. It wasn't hard to figure out which one of the guys standing on them was Jackson. A tall, blond stood by himself on the first row, lording himself over the crowd of people who Stiles guessed were prospective members, dressed head to toe in clothes that looked like they'd come fresh off the runway, and he'd been the one wearing them. The guy screamed rich brat with the sneer on his mouth and up-turned nose.

"I think that guy shoved me into a locker once," Stiles mused. "Only that version of him wore massive amounts of flannel and always smelled like beef."

Scott burst out laughing and clapped a hand to Stiles' shoulder. "Man, I am so glad I got you as a roommate. Come on, we should head back. There's a party on the beach tonight. You gotta help me pick something out to wear, man; Allison is going to be there."

Stiles looked back over at the table of Acabellas, wondering which one was Allison. A fiery red-head sat in one of the chairs at the table with a smile that said she liked to tear off people's heads for fun. Literally. She was undoubtedly sexy, but the blonde bombshell next to her was the one Stiles was putting his money on. She had legs for days, which were wrapped in skin tight leather pants, a red top that hugged every curve of her body, and a face that belonged on the cover of every magazine ever, from beauty to golf. She deserved to be on that cover. The blonde was talking to a slightly shorter, dark-haired girl with more pixie-like features, who was pretty in almost an exotic way, and they appeared to be laughing at something.

"Well, you've come to the right guy," said Stiles, puffing out his chest and striking a pose. "Fashionista Stiles Stilinski, at your service, monsieur."

Scott rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shoved him back down the walkway. "C'mon, Marc Jacobs, let's go."

 

\---

"So these a capella groups, is it playground rules or something? Guys and girls have to be in separate groups?" said Stiles as he rode shotgun in Scott's freaking Dodge Charger. Stiles had promptly drooled all over it, making Scott wait a whole twenty minutes before getting in the car so he could marvel at it. Personally, Stiles wanted a Jeep of some kind so long as it functioned, but this car was still a thing of beauty, an ostentatious hot rod red, which was the flashiest thing about Scott, who otherwise seemed pretty low-key.

For some reason, the entire way back to their dorms and as they'd gotten ready that night, Stiles couldn't stop thinking about the a capella groups.

"Nah," said Scott, "those are the only two actually that're that way. The rest are mixed."

"The rest? They're more?" Stiles didn't remember seeing any of them at the Club Fair.

Scott pulled neatly in between a silver Porsche and a black Jaguar. "That's because most of the other groups are smaller and don't really bother showing up until recruitment days officially begin. Try-outs," Scott added when Stiles stared at him blankly.

"All the a capella groups hold try-outs the first week of school in the auditorium. You perform in front of everyone and if one of the groups wants you, they'll contact you. If more than one group wants you, then you get to pick. Usually though, if the Acabellas call you or the One Note Stands do, it's not really a choice. You know, unless the Howlers call."

"The Howlers?" Stiles said, the sudden reverence in Scott's voice causing Stiles to pause. They'd gotten out of the car and had started walking towards the beach. He quickly caught back up with Scott.

Scott smirked. "They're the best a capella group on campus. They don't come to auditions though. If they want you, they'll find you. They never have to worry about recruitment. Ever since Derek Hale enrolled, they've won the championships three years in a row," he said, his eyes brimming with what looked like pride the way most people do when their favorite sports team won the Super Bowl or the Stanley Cup.

They'd reached the beach now. Bonfires were sprouted up like candle flames along the beach, with one large bonfire in the center. But because this was up north, the beach was surrounded on either side by forest, and no one was swimming, the ocean too cold at this time of year. Music was playing loudly from unseen speakers though, and the beach was full of students, most with red solo cups in their hands or cans or bottles of some sorts. 

The weather was nice enough, with just a cool breeze, that most of the guys were in short sleeves and shorts and the girls were in shorts or skirts or dresses. That was about the extent of Stiles' clothing terminology. All he'd done to change was take a quick shower, threw on a plain, lagoon blue shirt and some dark jeans. Scott had tried to talk him into some hair jel, which Stiles could have actually used since he'd let his hair finally grow out over the summer, deciding he could use a new look for university, but he decided that tonight was not the night for experimenting and had gone with just letting the water do whatever it wanted. Which ended up meaning his hair curled around his temples while the rest moved in some sort of wave that actually looked pretty decent, and Stiles couldn't recreate if he tried. 

"Derek Hale?" repeated Stiles, mentally running through the catalogue of Hales he'd tried to shove into his brain during the scholarship dinner, but came up blank.

Scott just nodded absently, his mind seemingly elsewhere now as he scanned the crowd, standing on his toes, his neck straining.

Stiles smirked. The man was already love sick and college hadn't even started yet. "I'll go grab us some beers." 

"Cool, thanks." Scott didn't turn around.

Stiles laughed to himself and headed in the general flow of traffic until he found a keg and filled two cups. As he waited, he took a minute to look around and take in his first college party. There was a steady buzz from the crowd as some people swayed to the music, pearls of laughter or excited shouting intermittently spiking through the hum of voices. Everyone was smiling or laughing, some flirting innocently, more than some trying to get laid, new friendships being made and old friends reuniting again, all the while music thrummed in the background, a unifying factor in the mass of chaos that was college students.

Yeah, Stiles could get used to this.

It took him a bit to find Scott again, but when he did, he was still alone and still searching the crowd like a child who'd lost his parent in the grocery store. "Dude, who even is this girl?" Stiles asked with a laugh as he handed him a cup.

"Allison, she went to school with me," he said, finally looking away from the crowd. "She's a year older than me, but we were in the same grade because she moved schools a lot when she was younger. We had History together though. She asked to borrow my pencil once."

\---

For the next couple of hours, Stiles and Scott just walked around. Occasionally Scott would stop by a group of people when he recognized someone, and he'd introduce Stiles. Scott had grown up in Beacon Hills, which was why he already knew his way around campus so well, he'd explained, and why he recognized a few people. 

They were still unable to find Allison, but as the night went on and Scott had more to drink, he relaxed a little and just enjoyed the party. Stiles, on the other hand, people-watched as they stood around one of the bonfires. He'd had a fair bit to drink, but he just had a good buzz going, and he found himself trying to guess who here looked pretentious enough to be in the award winning a capella group the Howlers.

He'd already seen Jackson a couple of times, surrounded by hoards of girls and guys alike, of course acting like he was too good for most of them, though Stiles could tell the guy was absolutely reveling in the attention. Guys like him always did. And if this guy wasn't even the leader of the best a capella group on campus and he was this cocky, Stiles couldn't even imagine what kind of guy Derek Hale was. 

Mostly he was concerned because he knew that he'd run into the guy eventually. Jackson he could avoid for the next four years if he really wanted to, but since Stiles would have to work for the Hales as part of the scholarship, there was going to be no way of avoiding him. The guy was already ridiculously rich, add talented onto that and Stiles shuddered to think how the guy would act towards him. Stiles had been shoved into countless lockers, been the target at every dodge ball game, and had been called every name under Jupiter's 63 moons. He wasn't scared. 

_Bring it on, Derek Hale,_ Stiles thought in a buzzed haze, _I'm not afraid of the Big Bad Wolf._

"Do you sing at all?" Stiles asked, nudging Scott, who was scanning the crowd again. 

He shrugged. "I'm okay," he said a little wistfully. "I mean, I can hold a note, but I'm not going to be winning any Nationals, you know? You?"

Stiles shrugged modestly. "You know, here and there. In the shower like everyone else, mostly."

Stiles' dad had always said that the only reason he could put up with Stiles singing all the time was because he was as good as Stiles' mother. Stiles always denied that, vehemently. He didn't remember a lot about his mom, and as the years went on, to his dismay, he remembered less and less, but one thing he would never forget was her singing voice. She didn't just sing like an angel, she sang like she had the voice of the heavens. 

The sheriff had tried encouraging Stiles countless times over the years to join his musical theater club, but Stiles got shoved into enough lockers, thank you very much, and he didn't need to spend anymore time in them. He'd gone to singing lessons before his mom died, but after that, he couldn't bring himself to go back. Now, it was just something he enjoyed now and again.

Stiles started to say something else, when a hush fell over the crowd of students. The sudden silence sent a chill down his spine. Instinctively Stiles started pushing through the crowd. Being a sheriff's son, he'd come to learn some cues to look out for that tipped off when something bad had happened, and an entire mass of drunken students all quieting down at the same time? Yeah, that couldn't be good.

But when Stiles finally broke through the crowd, all he saw was the large bonfire. No one was on fire, or screaming, or hurt even, two drunken idiots weren't squaring off, ready to kill each other over words neither of them would remember tomorrow.

It took a minute, but Stiles realized that everyone was staring at the group of people standing behind the fire, their backs to the sea. Stiles' stomach threatened to evacuate itself through his mouth. He recognized the guy standing at the front of the group, which consisted of eight people after a quick head count. 

It was the guy Stiles had sang at in the car earlier that day. The one he'd been banking on never seeing again anywhere but his dreams. The freakishly, inhumanly attractive one. The one who put Jackson Whittemore to absolute shame. _This_ guy had a body sculpted by the gods themselves, Stiles could tell even though he was wearing a leather jacket. Dark facial hair ran the length of his strong jawline, reaching up to the thick crop of hair that sat atop his head, looking slightly messy, but Stiles knew it was jelled to perfection. 

The rest of the people in the group must be the same ones who'd been walking with him because Stiles recognized a few, like the blonde girl standing at his side, just a step behind him, and the boy behind her with dark blond, curly hair. 

"That's them!" Scott whispered excitedly in his ear, grasping his shoulders from behind. "Those are the Howlers."

Holy shit. That was Derek Hale?? Stiles' lungs and kidneys were about to follow his stomach. The fire was low enough, the flames reaching maybe up to Derek Hale's knees, so that the members of the group were all visible, but a warm orange, almost eerily glow was thrown over them.

A different sort of chill crept down Stiles' spine as he looked over the impossibly attractive group, words failing him for once. Despite their beauty, Stiles detected something slightly...off about them, but he couldn't quite place it yet.

He turned to say something to Scott, when a voice stopped him. Stiles whipped back around. Derek was still standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, his face a blank mask, but his lips were moving as he stared broodingly at the audience, no one else made a sound except for the gentle lapping of the ocean behind him. The only part of him that seemed to be moving were his eyes as they smoldered at the audience in a way Stiles swore was illegal. 

 

*"Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard  
Said no more countin' dollars  
We'll be countin' stars  
Yeah, we'll be countin'...stars."

Suddenly, the people behind Derek came alive, sliding out as one, starting to hum and sing wordlessly, somehow creating a tune that produced the same sound as the song Stiles recognized as One Republic's hit single "Counting Stars."

Just as suddenly, the crowd around Stiles began to sway, a steady energy building among the mass of students. The people in the Howlers were swaying their hips, moving their arms in the air freely as they set the beat of the music. Only Derek remained in place, but now his right foot was tapping into the ground in time with the song, his right knee bouncing as he started singing again.

"I see this life  
Like a swinging vine  
Swing my heart across the line  
In my face is flashing signs  
Seek it out and ye shall find

Old, but I'm not that old  
Young, but I'm not that bold  
And I don't think the world is sold  
I'm just doing what we're told."

Derek's voice had a raw quality to it that gave the song an even rockier feel to it, and he even managed to hit the slightly higher notes on the next set of lyrics. All Stiles could do was stare. The guy's voice was like none he'd ever heard before. Smooth, yet gravely on certain words, like sharing a glass of dark, fine red wine next to a fireplace with your partner, then shattering the glasses against the wall and tearing into each other. The man's voice was sex, the earthy, ethereal smell of a secret forest, and the pure exhaustion you felt, the hollowing out of your insides, after you've gotten done sobbing. But it was also fresh like the smell after a rainstorm, and melodic, drumming against Stiles' skin until he could feel it in his bones.

And then the rest of the Howlers joined in, harmonizing with Derek, and the energy of the crowd exploded.

_"Lately I been, I been losing sleep_  
_Dreaming about the things that we could be_  
_But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard_  
_Said no more counting dollars_  
_We'll be countin' stars_  
_Lately I been, I been losing sleep_  
_Dreaming about the things that we could be_  
_But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard_  
_Said no more counting dollars_  
_We'll be, we'll be countin' stars."_

All around Stiles people jumped up and down, their hands in the air. The atmosphere was more intoxicating than the liquor ever was. Stiles couldn't take his eyes off of Derek Hale. Even the brooding leader was getting into it more now, his shoulders shaking with the music, his head bobbing along as he looked at the other members, and those _hips_...Stiles felt a flash of heat shoot through his body. The guy had rhythm despite his bulkier size. _Damn_ did he have rhythm.

"I feel the love  
And I feel it burn  
Down this river every turn  
Hope is a four letter word  
Make that money  
Watch it burn

 _Old, but I'm not that old_  
_Young, but I'm not that bold_  
And I don't think the world is sold  
I'm just doing what we're told

And I feel something so wrong  
By doing the right thing  
I could lie, could lie, could lie  
Everything that downs me makes me wanna fly."

And then the chorus hit again and Stiles was lost to the music, lost to the bodies that bumped into him. He moved with them, like he was lying in the ocean, letting the waves pull and push his body. It was like a trance had fallen over them all, and they were all powerless to do anything else. Stiles had never witnessed something, not anything natural, that had ever caused such a euphoria, and never in this large of a group.

And then, as one, everyone quieted. The Howlers stopped singing and went still, standing around Derek, slightly further back this time, and began to clap in time with each other. Stiles watched as if in slow motion, like the audience had all held a collective breath, as one of them came up and kicked the stack of logs, sending a burst of tiny, red hot embers burning into the sky, exploding like fireworks just as Derek began to sing:

"Take that money  
Watch it burn  
Sink in the river  
The lessons I learned" 

_And then the rest jumped in and the crowd exploded again, the trance shattering. They clapped along this time._

___"Take that money_  
_Watch it burn_  
_Sink in the river_  
_The lessons I learned"_

They sang that a few times over before fading back, and Derek stepped forward, and, Stiles swore, locked eyes with him as he sang: 

"Everything that kills meeeee....makes me feel alive." 

And then Derek was looking elsewhere and the noise of the crowd drowned out everything else. Stiles wouldn't be able to remember how the rest of the song went after that point. Only a gentle, rhythmic buzzing could be heard because all he could do was stare at Derek Hale. His lips, his shoulders, his hands, his legs, his hips, those hips, and those eyes. Those eyes that he could have sworn flashed a brilliant blue as he started at Stiles, holding that note, but then he blinked and all he saw were dark pools. 

It was Scott shaking his shoulders that finally pulled Stiles out of his trance and made him realize that the song had ended. The Howlers were all laughing and whooping, hugging each other and clapping each other on the back. 

And then the crowd was all tipping their heads back, and they began to howl. 

_Ah-wooooo!_

_Ah-wooooo!_

_Ah-ah-ah woooooo!_

Stiles turned on the spot, looking questioningly at the crowd, not understanding. The Howlers made no move to join the crowd, but instead smiled at them and clapped.

"What was _that?_ " Stiles asked Scott when it was over. 

He shrugged, smiling. "I dunno. It's kind of something people started doing after a Howler's performance. We do it instead of clapping." 

The corner of Stiles' mouth quirked up. It seemed strange, but he actually kind of liked it. "Are they all students here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the Howlers, who were all being mobbed now and offered drinks. It was a stupid question he realized after he asked it, because obviously they were students if they were in the group, but luckily Scott seemed to catch what he actually meant to ask. 

"Yeah. That one is Derek Hale, like I said; he's a senior. The dark haired girl there is Cora Hale, his sister, and the blonde girl is Erica Reyes; they're both Juniors. The twins are Ethan and Aiden Carver and along with Danny Mahealani, the darker skinned guy, who's also Ethan's boyfriend; they're also juniors. Isaac Lahey, the blond with the curls, and Eddy Zacker, the red-head, are both sophomores." 

Stiles just nodded. Every part of him wanted to go up and introduce himself to the Howlers. That seemed to be a residual effect of one of their performances though, according to Scott. Mostly, Stiles wanted to make up for making an idiot of himself in front of the entire group earlier that day, but then he realized he'd probably make an even bigger idiot of himself because they probably wouldn't even have any idea who he was or what he was talking about. 

But because he couldn't help it, Stiles scanned the group for Derek, and found him standing slightly away from everyone else, the brooding look back on his face, his dark features making him look even more intimidating. He didn't seem to enjoy the limelight the way Jackson did, or maybe he was such a dick that he thought he was too good to even be by anyone else? 

Before Stiles could debate the question further, the sound of police sirens began whirling in the distance. 

"COPS!" someone shouted, and all at once, everyone scattered. 


	2. Best I Ever Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An * by a song will indicate for you to play that song along with reading the text as a little reminder if you'd like to do that :)  
> It'll indicate in the paragraph what song it is and who it's by, but I'll put them at the end just in case. I recommend reading the parts without music and then going back and giving them a listen while re-reading! They really enhance the story in my opinion and help you really get the most atmosphere out of it. If that's no your thing though, no biggie! Enjoy this story at your leisure :)
> 
> Also, any lyrics that are in italics (usually) means that more than one character is singing the lyrics (usually meaning together). Regular text means the lyrics are sung by one person.

A week had passed since Stiles first arrived at Beacon Hills University (BHU). Most of it had been spent participating in more Fresher's Week events, attending more parties, and being shown all around Beacon Hills by Scott, who was quickly becoming Stiles' best friend. 

Stiles hadn't been back to the Hale Estate to learn about or start whatever job it was he was going to have to do over the year as part of his full-ride scholarship. Although, he'd gotten a voicemail informing him he had to go there later in the week after class. A part of him was excited to be working for the Hales. No doubt it was going to look killer on his resume for future jobs. But another part, a larger part, was more than slightly mortified at running into Derek Hale again, who looked like a freakin' Greek God and whom Stiles had already managed to make an ass of himself in front of by serenading him through a car window.

The guy probably saw hundreds of faces a day though from people wanting to shake his hand and fawn and drool all over him, so Stiles was praying he wouldn't remember his face. Stiles didn't think his own face was particularly remarkable, so there was hope still.

Classes had started this week and along with them, auditions for the a capella groups, which Scott was now dragging Stiles to. Stiles had played at Scott being an evil friend for forcing him to go, but really, he was actually curious to learn more about the most popular organization on campus. Although he was strictly going as moral support for Scott; Stiles himself wasn't auditioning, despite Scott's best efforts to get him to.

This past Sunday, Stiles had hopped in the shower around noon after finally managing to drag himself out of bed. As soon as he stepped under the spray of water, he'd started singing. He definitely had whatever syndrome it was that caused people to suddenly want to put on a concert whenever they had bottles of shampoo and conditioner to sing into like a microphone.

Still a bit groggy from sleep, Stiles had started with something simple and soothing, beginning the lyrics to Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's song "Lucky."

*"Do you hear me? I'm talking to you...  
Across the water...across the deep...blue _ocean_  
Under the open sky, oh my, oh baby I'm trying..."

It was then that the shower curtain was unceremoniously ripped back, metal rings whizzing down the curtain rod. Instinctively, Stiles reached down to cover his junk, his first thought being that the zombie apocalypse was finally here and it was just his freakin' luck that he was going to die naked.

It was only Scott though, who was staring at him, his puppy dog eyes wide and full of light like he'd just been given a new bone to chew on, and an awed smile played across his face. "Dude, you can sing! You've totally been holding out."

" _Dude_ ," Stiles mimicked, "I'm in the shower!"

"No, no," Scott shook his head. "I know everyone thinks they sound good in the shower, but you actually do! Like really good."

"No, I mean _I'm in the shower_." Stiles wiggled his head around vigorously trying to indicate his surroundings without the use of his hands. "Naked." Sure, Stiles had been around plenty of naked dudes all through high school when he was on the lacrosse team, even if he'd only warmed the bench, but no one had ever burst into his stall before and tried to strike up a conversation, so this was a little different.

Scott waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't bother me, dude, we're all men here."

That was easy for Scott to say, who was standing in front of him in just his boxers (Stiles could have sworn the guy was asleep in his bed), and who also looked like he hit the gym every day, with a natural tan that Stiles was only slightly envious of considering his own pasty white skin.

"You have to go to the a capella auditions with me this week," said Scott.

"No way, man, I don't do after school choir groups. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to making myself squeaky clean, which you should want too, since you said my feet reeked the other day..."

"You have to," said Scott, choosing to ignore Stiles' sarcasm. "C'mon, you have to know you're good. Sing something with me."

"Dude, no. I'm in the freakin' sh-"

"Shower, yeah, I know, you said that already." 

It took all of his effort not to reach out and strangle Scott. He was no longer under the spray of the water, having sought out the corner of the shower for protection when he thought a zombie had come to eat his brains, but he could still feel the water on his feet, and it was already starting to cool down. He was too far away to reach for the handle to turn it up, and a chill was already creeping across his skin.

Sighing in resignation, he let his head fall back against the wall as he said, "You're not going to leave until I do, are you?"

"Nope," said Scott, popping his lips on the 'p' and bringing his hands up to rest on his hips, one hip jutting out. It was the sassiest Stiles had ever seen Scott look, and he couldn't help but laugh while shaking his head.

"Fine."

Scott started clapping excitedly before settling back down. "Okay, I'll start where you left off, and I'll even let you be Jason Mraz."

"Alright, Colbie Caillat, hit it."

Scott cleared his throat before beginning. 

*"Boy I hear you, in my dreams...  
I hear your whisper, across the sea...  
I keep you with me, in my heart  
You make it eas-ier when life gets hard"

Stiles rolled his eyes, but joined in for the chorus.

_"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been_  
_Lucky to be coming home again_  
_Ooh ooh ooh"_

And then Scott began to sing, Stiles joining in and echoing the lyrics just like the song.

"They don't know how long we take,  
Waiting for a love like this  
Every time we say goodbye  
I wish we had one more kiss  
I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will... 

_I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend_  
_Lucky to have been where I have been  
_ _Lucky to be coming home again_

_Lucky we will love in every way_  
_Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed_  
_Lucky to be coming home someday_

And then it was just Stiles' part again.

"And so I'm sailing, through the sea  
To an island, where we'll meet  
You'll hear the music, fill the air  
I put a flowwwer...in your hair..."

 

"Okay, okay, okay," said Stiles, cutting Scott off before he could sing anymore. "I love you and all, dude, but this song...yeah, you're like my best friend here and this is just a bit too much bro love for me right now."

Scott was smirking though, not looking the least bit disturbed by the interruption. "You're auditioning," he said simply; it wasn't a question.

"No," said Stiles, just as simply.

And that's how Stiles spent his Sunday morning, arguing with Scott until all of the hot water was used up and Stiles stood shivering, junk cupped in his hands, balls having shriveled to the size of raisins until he made Scott get out of the bathroom by spraying him with the freezing water.

"Don't worry about it, man, you're gonna do great," said Stiles, clapping a hand on Scott's shoulder for reassurance. 

Scott was currently having a little freak out outside of the auditorium doors where the auditions were being held. Stiles really did think Scott would do fine; he was also a better singer than he'd given himself credit for. And it wasn't even getting up and singing on stage that had Scott wigging out, it was Allison. She was the only reason Scott was even attempting to try-out. The Acabellas were an All Girls group, but Scott insisted that being a part of a group would mean he got to spend more with her and give him more opportunities to run into her because apparently the groups had smaller competitions around campus with each other and other charity events they had to all do together.

That man's head was so far over his heels he could probably see his own ass.

"C'mon, buddy, I'll be right in the audience. Just focus on me, just pretend everyone is in their underwear, you know, all that junk. Literally. All. That. Junk. Right in your face. Just imagine it.”

Scott eyes suddenly bugged out. "I bet Allison looks amazing in her underwear...Oh my god, I can't go in there, man!"

"Ahh, shit." Stiles bit his fist. Really, he should learn when to shut his mouth sometimes. He'd only had years of angry retorts, squeals of indignation, and being chased down hallways to learn that he didn't always say the brightest things. His mouth was a bit of a teenage runaway.

Finally though, Stiles managed to coax Scott through the doors, which mostly involved a lot of dragging, words of encouragement, and friendly reminders that the worst that could happen was Allison would think he was a major loser and never want to speak to or see him again. 

The auditorium was packed when they walked in.

"Are all of these people auditioning?" Stiles asked in disbelief as he and Scott squeezed their way down one of the back rows where some of the only seats remained. He'd finally come to believe that a capella was actually a popular club around here and that this wasn't some elaborate joke by Scott, but he didn't realize it was _this_ popular.

"Nah, most of the people just come to watch. Technically people aren't supposed to be allowed in to watch auditions, but ever since Jackson joined he made it his mission to turn this whole process into American Idol."

Stiles spotted the Abercrombie model in the first row of seats. It wasn't hard to find him. A whole section of seats were roped off for whom Stiles assumed were all of the a capella groups and their current members. The One Note Stands had taken it upon themselves to hoard the first row. He spotted the Acabellas, which were nearly the same size, and then scattered throughout the section were smaller groups of people, the less popular ones Stiles assumed.

As he scanned their faces, he couldn't help but look for a certain tall, dark, and brooding leader as well as the other equally as gorgeous members of The Howlers. Scott had said they never showed up to auditions; if they wanted you, they'd find you somehow, but Stiles couldn't help but search the sea of faces anyway until someone came up on stage and the auditions began.

It was like watching something out of a movie as, one by one, people were called up to the stage, all of them singing the song "Live While We're Young" by One Direction. All of it passed by like a montage, some people singing the song up beat and fun just like the original version, others going all out and making it a ballad, one dude performing it like he was in the opera.  
The audience reacted to each auditioner, and Stiles couldn't help but get caught up in the atmosphere, cheering and sighing and cringing along with them all. A lot of the people were tone deaf and Stiles was sure he'd have hearing problems for the rest of his life after one girl screeched away, but many of the performances were actually pretty good. He knew he'd have a hard time choosing people if he had his own group.

Eventually it was Scott's turn and Stiles made sure to cheer the loudest, clapping and shouting "You got this, Scotty!" and "Don't forget the underwear!" winking back at the murderous stare Scott gave him as he walked onto the stage. It was hard to find puppies murderous, after all.  
After his initial nerves that made his voice shake a bit, Scott got into the song, letting his personality shine through, and Stiles thought he hit it out of the park, not to mention the loud applause he got at the end, and he was pretty sure he saw several girls faint at the end, and a few guys as well. 

Scott returned to his seat next to Stiles after his audition, his friend receiving several claps on the back and even an enthusiastic hug from a stranger. They settled back in to finish the auditions together for another half an hour. Stiles couldn't lie, he was actually really enjoying a capella as he found himself bobbing his head and rocking along with the auditoners.

Eventually it came to an end though, the two guys who'd hosted the auditions coming back onto the stage. "Thank you everyone for coming. That now concludes this year's a capella auditi -"

"Wait!"

Stiles nearly jumped a foot out of his seat as Scott had literally jumped out of his, shouting across the stadium.

"Yes, you, the adorable laberdoodle," one of the hosts called back.

Scott blushed a little but went on. "There's still one more person who has to audition."

The man looked down at his clipboard. "There's no one left on this list..."

"He's a late entry. My buddy Stiles Stilinksi." Scott turned to Stiles, wearing the biggest, most devious smirk Stiles had ever seen on his friend.

"Whoa - no, no, no, no." Stiles held his hands out in front of himself defensively, shaking his head. "I didn't sign up for this."

"Awww, come on, cutie, don't be shy, get your little tushy up here!" the second host cooed into the microphone. "Everyone give this honey-bun a cheer. He needs a little encouragement!"

The room immediately erupted into cheers and clapping, the people around Stiles all urging him on with a 'come on' and 'you can do it!' his shoulders being squeezed from all sides. It felt as if his stomach was going to make an immediate exit out of his mouth. How could he say no to an auditorium full of people?

The answer was he couldn't. He stood up reluctantly, giving Scott the stink-eye as he did. "You're so dead," he promised. 

Scott just laughed. "Just imagine everyone in their underwear!" he said with a wink.

The walk up to the stage was the longest walk of his life. He smiled and waved, even blowing a kiss as he tried to put on a show in true Stiles fashion, but inside a band of cracked-out crickets hopped along his nerves doing the jitterbug. Eventually he made it onto the stage, a bright light shining down on him. It threatened to blind him, but the one good thing was that it blocked out most of the back half of the auditorium.

A shriek of feedback from the stereos pierced the stadium when he tried adjusting the microphone to his height. As one the audience cringed and he could tell that he was already losing their favor. Jackson barking out a laugh in the front row didn't help, his cronies all joining him. The mocking looks and jeers they were all giving him clearly said they expected Stiles to be shit and that he was going to make an idiot out of himself.

Instead of discouraging him, their laughter actually hardened something in him. He'd been laughed at nearly his entire life at everything he did. Sure, he'd never thought he was that great of a singer, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to give everyone a show now, if only to wipe that stupid smirk off of Jackson's face.

The piercing noise of feedback finally subsided and Stiles spoke into the microphone. "I, uh, didn't prepare that song so I don't know all of the lyrics despite my best buddy Scotty out there rocking out to it in front of his Harry Styles poster every morning. Hey, whatever gets you off, man. No judgement here."

That got some laughs from the crowd, which further eased his nerves. Payback was always soothing. "And my father has banned me from singing Rihanna ever again and you don't argue with a man with a gun, but I do have some Gavin Degraw prepared, if that's alright?" He turned to look at the judges, who gave him a nod and a wink.

Clearing his throat, Stiles forced down his nerves, though his hands still shook slightly as he gripped the microphone and began the opening lyrics to "Best I Ever Had."

*"Melt Antarctica, savin’ Africa  
I failed algebra and I miss you sometimes  
We’re at war again, save the world again  
You can all join in, but you can’t smoke inside"

The first couple of parts were fun and up beat, having a bit of a ska feeling to it, but they more of a "talking-singing" that anyone could do decently and as he performed, he could see Jackson and his crew all rolling their eyes at each other, smirking and laughing, making a show of not paying attention. Stiles looked away and continued.

"You said, “Take me home, I can’t stand this place  
‘Cause there’s too many hipsters and I just can’t relate.”  
You’re my neon gypsy, my desert rain  
You’re my “Helter Skelter”, oh how can I explain that"

Jackson gave an exaggerated yawn and even Stiles could tell that the audience felt like his performance was anti-climatic after all of the cheering. Biting that all back, Stiles closed his eyes briefly, picturing his mom and how it had seemed like she'd opened up her entire soul and heart on stage when she sang, her voice the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

Pausing a moment and breathing in deeply, Stiles did the same as he belted out the next lyrics.

"You’re the besttttt I ever haddd...  
And I’m trying not to getttt stuck in my headddd!  
"But I've read that soda kills you and Jesus saves  
On a bathroom wall where I saw your name  
You’re the best I ever had!  
I won’t be the same"

There was a brief pause as Stiles caught his breath, and then the room exploded in cheer.

A smile broke out across Stiles' face in surprise. Did they really think he was good? Either way, the feeling filled him up, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he really got into the performance, grasping the microphone and pulling it backwards as he began again.  
He started to stomp his foot and clap his hands along to the beat and a second later the audience picked it up.

"Night sky full of drones, this neighborhood of clones  
I’m looking at the crowd and they’re staring at their phones  
They groom the coast line here, the sun will disappear  
And maybe once a year I think to clean my car

Caught my reflection, dropped the call  
I’ve been medicating with cigarettes and alcohol  
I got vertigo, no I can’t see straight  
I got obligations though I’m usually late but"

Again, Stiles filled his lungs let it all loose as he sang:

"You’re the best I ever haddd!  
And I’m trying not to getttt stuck in my headddd  
But I think I dropped my wallet in Santa Fe  
Lost the only picture I had of you that day and  
You’re the besttttt I ever hadddd  
I won’t be the same!"

The rest of the song was like riding on a high. Singing around the house and in the car and the shower was one thing. It'd always made him happy to sing, but he'd never expected to feel the same in front of an audience. Especially after his mom died. It was just so _different_. It was amazing and exhilarating and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. And as the song wrapped up Stiles would never doubt the effect immediate feedback from an audience gave. Because to further Stile's surprise, the auditorium was rising to its feet, the people still clapping and cheering.

It didn't happen often because it took a lot to embarrass Stiles, but a blush sprung across his face at their response. He didn't feel like he deserved it. There was no way in hell he was that good. Sure, his dad said he was all the time, but that's what dads were supposed to do: tell bad jokes and make their kids feel like rockstars.

Feeling too humbled to wink and blow kisses anymore, Stiles merely waved, mustering up as much of a smile as he could before running his hand through his hair, trying to cover up his face as he did. 

"Well, well, welllll," Nate, one of the hosts, sashayed up to Stiles, throwing an arm around him and tugging him even closer until Stiles wondered if this was what it felt like to be in one of those Chinese finger trap thingys. "Adorable AND gifted by the a capella gods? You, my dear, are one little Mourning Dove I would let sit on my -"

"ALRIGHT thank you, Mr. Stilinski," the other host, the taller, heavier set one, Tod, interrupted, pulling at Nate, who'd begun to stroke the side of Stile's face and down his jawline with a thin, twig of a finger, having to give a hard yank to fully extract the slender man from around Stiles completely.

Thoroughly creeped out and yet oddly flattered, Stiles gladly took Tod's dismissal to get off the stage as he began announcing that any auditioners would be contacted by a capella groups by the end of the week at the latest if they were interested in recruiting them. 

Hopping off the stage, a move that would have sent him stumbling into a full out tumble and rolling up the aisles like a drunk bowling ball only a year ago, Stiles made his way back towards Scott and past the crowd of people waiting to pat him on the back and squeeze his shoulders, but not before searching for Jackson in the crowd, wanting to see that smirk wiped off of the smug Ambercrombie model's face as a cherry on top of his performance. 

To Stiles' delight, the smirk was replaced with a scowl, the older man quickly looking away when Stiles winked at him flirtatiously and puckered his lips.

“Dude, that was fricken incredible!” Scott cheered, jumping on Stiles when he’d finally made it back up to their seats.

Stiles shrugged humbly and smiled softly. He really wasn’t good at this whole praise thing, especially not from friends. And, really, he honestly didn’t think he’d done _that_ great. He probably should’ve picked a song that showcased any talents he might have, but it was the first one that’d popped into his head, and hey, the world needed their daily dose of Gavin Mcgraw.

“Thanks, man,” he mumbled before speaking louder. “No better than you though; you killed it.” 

Scott shook his head. “Nuh uh, dude, that reverse spotlight stuff isn’t gonna work. I WISH I was half as good as you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got an invite from the Howlers by the end of the week.” He nudged him in the ribs, grinning goofily like this should be the best news in the world.

Instead, Stiles busted out laughing. 

Scott gave him a funny look. “What? You’re really good, Stiles! I’m serious. You just wait and see.”

Stiles rubbed his stomach, which had cramped from all the laughter. Stiles had seen the Howlers perform. The way they were effortlessly in sync as if they all shared a brain or ran on the same wave length. They were like a pack almost. Not to mention they were all drop dead gorgeous. Even if stiles **did** have what it took vocally, he never would’ve passed the beauty test. 

“Uh huh. Sure thingy, buddy. And maybe vampires and werewolves are real.”

Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles by the elbow. “Whatever, man. Let’s go grab some grub. I’m starving.”

 

After the duo had stomachs full to bursting of french fries and chili cheese dogs and brownies, they headed back to their dorm for a day full of zombie slaying on the sweet set-up of electronics Scott had brought to their dorm room. They had three monitors mounted on their walls (not strictly speaking legal, but Scott knew or was related to one of the administrators of the school, so a blind eye had been turned) and an entire hoard of game systems on the shelves underneath.

But their discussion on which of Superhero sidekick deserved his own movie franchise (Nightwing vs. Bucky Barnes) as they walked into the dorm was cut short when Stiles, arms full of snacks and sugary goodness, saw an envelope lying pristinely on his bed. The elegant calligraphy that spelled out his name told Stiles exactly who it was from.

His heart managed to stutter back to life, revving ostentatiously in his ears as he dumped the snacks onto his bed and pick up the envelope. Scott was still chattering happily away, not having noticed as Stiles carefully opened the better, breaking the dark, blood red wax seal that had a bold, gothic family crest stamped into it. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Scott breathed his chili breath into Stiles’ ears, suddenly right behind him as he’d reached the bottom of the letter. 

Stiles pulled the letter away sheepishly. Okay, so he hadn’t exactly told Scott yet about his scholarship. Scott knew he was on a scholarship (if his lack of a car and red converse with a generous ventilation system via large rips weren’t obvious enough) but he didn’t know WHICH one. It wasn’t for any particular reason Stiles hadn’t told him, but he just didn’t know how to bring it up.

 _Now’s as good a time as any,_ he thought. The whole not really having a choice now may have played a part too.

“It’s a letter from the Hale family. I have to be at their estate in an hour.” The words fell matter-of-factly from Stiles’ mouth, his shock and slight to extreme horror apparently taking their time to gain optimal speed before they would no doubt shoot to the surface.

Scott blinked slowly at him, not comprehending.

Stiles scratched at the back of his head - a nervous habit - and quickly explained exactly how he’d come to enroll at BHU. 

“You KNOW Derek Hale? Dude, you’re so totally getting into the Howlers now,” was the first thing Scott blurted out (halfway through Stiles’ explanation, which earned him a glare and a flick to the nose).

“I don’t KNOW any of the Hales, let alone Derek.” If you didn’t count serenading him on the sidewalk with popular Katy Perry hits, that was. “He wasn’t even at the dinner that night. Neither was his sister, the other one in the group.”

“Cora,” Scott supplied automatically.

“Right,” Stiles said slowly, eyes narrowing as he calculated just how deep Scott’s obsession went for a capella. It seemed to be a Beacon Hills thing though, not just a Scott thing. “So yeah, I uh, guess I have to go there in…” He looked down at his watch. “Oh shit! I’ve only got thirty minutes.”

“Dude, you can’t go to the Hale’s house wearing that!” Scott cried.

What followed was a blur of the most expensive clothing Stiles had ever wore being put on and torn off of his body and flung across the room haphazardly at lightning speed. Until finally Scott had Stiles in a wine-red sweater that felt soft as lamb ears, pulled over a denim button-up with the collar pulled out and the cuffs folded and buttoned over the sweater. They weren’t the same pants size, with Stiles being a bit taller and Scott being a tad more built, although Stiles had filled out nicely over the summer due to an excessive amount of time on his hands and free access to the weight room at the police station.

But Scott apparently had a couple pairs that he rolled the pant legs up for “fashion purposes,” so Stiles was promptly put in a nice pair of dark jeans with a belt and dress shoes that pinched his feet a bit.

All in all, he finally looked like he belonged at BHU as he was covered in a several hundred dollar outfit. 

But as he stared in the mirror at his artfully messy hair that Scott had attacked with some salon professional grade hair gel, Stiles never felt more out of place in his life.

And he was about to spend his evening with the richest family in Beacon Hills, which included one brooding and godly Derek Hale. What could go wrong when you were dressed to the nines in your best friend’s clothes and received a quick slap on the ass from said best friend with a cheer of “things will go great!”?

Apparently, as Stiles would soon find out, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update!! Please put the pitchforks away. I plan to be much more productive in updating all of my stories. Here's to hoping! *crosses fingers, legs, arms, every single strand of hair on my body*
> 
> Please let me know if anyone is even still reading this! Also, let me know if you're enjoying it ^__^  
> Getting comments makes me a very happy person.  
> You keep reading/commenting, I'll keep writing! :D sound like a dealio?  
> I love you all to the far distant galaxies and back. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> P.s. - lots of Derek to come in the next chapter ;D
> 
> Songs:  
> * Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat  
> * Best I Ever Had by Gavin DeGraw

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, if you’d like, go ahead and go back and listen to the songs while they “play” in the story. It really does make it more fun. Also, quick note, whenever I do italics during lyrics that will usually indicate either it’s just a song that’s playing and no one is singing, or that, while someone is singing, the italics will represent more than one person singing while just regular font means it’s a single person. if that’s confusing, I promise it’ll make more sense as the chapters go on and you see it more ^_^
> 
> Thanks again for reading. What’d you think? I spent a loooong time writing this chapter, and as much as I enjoyed writing this, if it’s not something people are interested then i’d like to know because I’ll put that effort into something people actually enjoy because I have a very busy schedule with my job and my school work, so I need some priorities, haha.
> 
> So, please, if you liked it, let me know, I’d love to hear from you!
> 
> Oh! Also, I actually saw this as a sort of “prompt” a very long time ago on here. A girl posted something she’d thought of, and I asked her if i could write it myself to which she responded, “uh, duh,” haha. I apologize for not remembering who that was because this is literally a year later, so if that was you please let me know so I can give you some credit for that at least. I’m putting my own spin on it as well, but definitely want to give you credit for the name “The Howlers.”
> 
> One more side note, I thought of the “Acabellas” myself, though it was inspired from the name “Bellas” from the movie Pitch Perfect, which this is a sort of AU of, lol, cuz I wondered why they didn’t name their group that in the movie, but it’s totally possible that it’s actually a legit name of a group somewhere. The “One Note Stands” though I did barrow from the internet because I wanted to give Jackson’s group the sleaziest name possible, lol, so yeah, just wanted to give credit where credit is due. Thanks!
> 
> Also, here's my tumblr: guardian-of-the-arc.tumblr.com/


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